Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: Technicalities
Oct. 26th, 2016 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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Written for Day 26 of the
31_days October challenge. The prompt was "skeleton keys"
“That had better not be what I think it is,” said Marshall.
“That depends,” said Dash. “Do you think it’s a key made from the finger bones of a dozen murdered men?”
“I knew it!” said Marshall. “I could tell some of those sacks of dragon-trash were light. I should have known you’d be up to something.”
“You promised,” said Simon, his eyes big and sad as Sparky’s when he was denied table scraps. “You promised if we helped you with your community service, you wouldn’t hand the skeletons over to any dark-magicky types.”
“Technically, I said I wouldn’t sell them to any dark magicky types,” said Dash. “And I didn’t; I paid them to make this key for me, they didn’t give me a penny.”
“No,” said Marshall. “They gave you a horrible artefact of ugly death instead. Which... why, exactly? I mean, probably I don’t even really want to know, but... why?”
Dash rolled his eyes.
“It’s a skeleton key, duh,” he said, and waggled the monstrous construct around for emphasis. “I’m going to use it to break into the dragon vaults under Wolf Mountain.” He glanced over at Simon’s disappointed expression and his tone became defensive. “Look, they made us clean up after their big murder parties and never reimbursed us. I’m just evening the score.”
“The Loyal Order of Corn is selling their old wide-screen TV,” said Marshall thoughtfully. “If we could afford it, we could travel to other planets whenever we wanted.”
“Mars...”
“I know, I know, but we’re paying for HBO and watching it on that crummy little portable television in the kitchen seems like a total waste...”
“Marshall!”
“Come on, Simon, you always wanted to go back to that snow planet once you had mittens,” said Dash, waving the key temptingly under Simon’s nose. Simon slapped his hand away – apart from the moral implications, it still smelled slightly of dragon spit.
“You’re as bad as each other,” he said crossly.
“Alright, alright,” said Dash. “You don’t want a free inter-dimensional ski trip or a TV without rabbit ears and permanent static, you go ahead. Next time one of your pets needs to go to that weird vet with the Frankenstein stitches, you can foot the bill."
“They have pet insurance,” said Simon. “That’s part of being a responsible adult. Like, I don’t know, not stealing from dragons, not buying used appliances from the closing-down sales of failed cults – oh yes, I know about the waffle iron, Marshall – and not spending the rent money to make a Dead Man’s Hand from people who were killed by immortal creatures rather than the hangman and therefore don’t actually fit the required criteria.”
“What?” said Dash, as Marshall spluttered his way through a denial as half-baked as the waffles made in an iron consecrated to a chthonic deity for whom the concepts of “light” “fluffy” and “golden-brown” were as alien as the surface of the moon.
“I didn’t say anything at the time because a) I believed you when you said you’d make sure all the bones were disposed of properly and b) we all took the same refresher course on comparative mythology last summer as part of the recertification process, but c) you’re a liar and d) apparently you also cheated off my notes, all of which means you neglected to factor in that e) a Hand of Glory, along with it’s various pro-thief counterparts, needs to be made from an evil-doer who died at the hands of the human justice system, and not a bunch of failed knights-errant who picked a fight with the wrong dragons.”
Simon took a deep breath. His face was red and his fists were bunched at his side.
“Oh,” said Dash. Then, “Fuck.”
Microwave-verse
Bonfire by
froodle, in which Pinocchio is ruined forever
Gingerbread by
froodle, in which there is a witch in the Eerie Woods
Leaves by
froodle, in which plantlife finds Marshall entirely too enticing
Offspring by
froodle, in which there are dragons
Based on Your Previous Purchases by
froodle, in which Mars should really pay attention to Amazon's reccomendations
Housework by
froodle, in which a rota cannot be agreed upon
Breakfast by
froodle, in which Dash's attempts at cookery do not go well
Ghost in the Machine by
froodle, in which a new laptop opens an old wound
Consequences by
froodle, in which an encounter with leprechauns leaves the boys very tired indeed
The Microwave by
froodle, in which Andrea Fantucci returns to Eerie after a considerable absense
The Eldritch Abomination in the Room by
froodle, in which the microwave is most definitely not discussed
Basic Household Maintenance by
froodle, in which manticores are inconsiderate houseguests
Torrential by
froodle, in which there is a storm, and the boys eat ice-cream
Linens by
froodle, in which Dash X makes a bed
Night Music by
froodle, in which Simon is woken by a nocturnal visitor
In For The Night by
froodle, in which Dash refuses to leave the house
Hound by
froodle, in which Simon makes a friend
Errands by
froodle, in which Simon has a to-do list
Waterlogged by
froodle, in which Eerie experiences heavy rainfall
Wildlife by
froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach
Rainbow by
froodle, in which Dash fails to properly appreciate Michael Flatley
Jackolantern by
froodle, in which the local pumpkin patch has a problem
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“That had better not be what I think it is,” said Marshall.
“That depends,” said Dash. “Do you think it’s a key made from the finger bones of a dozen murdered men?”
“I knew it!” said Marshall. “I could tell some of those sacks of dragon-trash were light. I should have known you’d be up to something.”
“You promised,” said Simon, his eyes big and sad as Sparky’s when he was denied table scraps. “You promised if we helped you with your community service, you wouldn’t hand the skeletons over to any dark-magicky types.”
“Technically, I said I wouldn’t sell them to any dark magicky types,” said Dash. “And I didn’t; I paid them to make this key for me, they didn’t give me a penny.”
“No,” said Marshall. “They gave you a horrible artefact of ugly death instead. Which... why, exactly? I mean, probably I don’t even really want to know, but... why?”
Dash rolled his eyes.
“It’s a skeleton key, duh,” he said, and waggled the monstrous construct around for emphasis. “I’m going to use it to break into the dragon vaults under Wolf Mountain.” He glanced over at Simon’s disappointed expression and his tone became defensive. “Look, they made us clean up after their big murder parties and never reimbursed us. I’m just evening the score.”
“The Loyal Order of Corn is selling their old wide-screen TV,” said Marshall thoughtfully. “If we could afford it, we could travel to other planets whenever we wanted.”
“Mars...”
“I know, I know, but we’re paying for HBO and watching it on that crummy little portable television in the kitchen seems like a total waste...”
“Marshall!”
“Come on, Simon, you always wanted to go back to that snow planet once you had mittens,” said Dash, waving the key temptingly under Simon’s nose. Simon slapped his hand away – apart from the moral implications, it still smelled slightly of dragon spit.
“You’re as bad as each other,” he said crossly.
“Alright, alright,” said Dash. “You don’t want a free inter-dimensional ski trip or a TV without rabbit ears and permanent static, you go ahead. Next time one of your pets needs to go to that weird vet with the Frankenstein stitches, you can foot the bill."
“They have pet insurance,” said Simon. “That’s part of being a responsible adult. Like, I don’t know, not stealing from dragons, not buying used appliances from the closing-down sales of failed cults – oh yes, I know about the waffle iron, Marshall – and not spending the rent money to make a Dead Man’s Hand from people who were killed by immortal creatures rather than the hangman and therefore don’t actually fit the required criteria.”
“What?” said Dash, as Marshall spluttered his way through a denial as half-baked as the waffles made in an iron consecrated to a chthonic deity for whom the concepts of “light” “fluffy” and “golden-brown” were as alien as the surface of the moon.
“I didn’t say anything at the time because a) I believed you when you said you’d make sure all the bones were disposed of properly and b) we all took the same refresher course on comparative mythology last summer as part of the recertification process, but c) you’re a liar and d) apparently you also cheated off my notes, all of which means you neglected to factor in that e) a Hand of Glory, along with it’s various pro-thief counterparts, needs to be made from an evil-doer who died at the hands of the human justice system, and not a bunch of failed knights-errant who picked a fight with the wrong dragons.”
Simon took a deep breath. His face was red and his fists were bunched at his side.
“Oh,” said Dash. Then, “Fuck.”
Microwave-verse
Bonfire by
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Gingerbread by
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Leaves by
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Offspring by
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Based on Your Previous Purchases by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Housework by
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Breakfast by
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Ghost in the Machine by
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Consequences by
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The Microwave by
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The Eldritch Abomination in the Room by
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Basic Household Maintenance by
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Torrential by
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Linens by
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Night Music by
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In For The Night by
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Hound by
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Errands by
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Waterlogged by
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Wildlife by
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Rainbow by
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Jackolantern by
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no subject
Date: 2016-10-25 11:39 pm (UTC)god simon must really hate being the conscience of this group sometimes xD
no subject
Date: 2016-10-26 11:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-10-26 11:56 am (UTC)hell he probably can't get groceries without Dash and Mars getting Up To Something
no subject
Date: 2016-10-26 02:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-10-26 05:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-10-26 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-10-26 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-10-27 05:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-10-27 08:11 pm (UTC)gonna power through for Nano tho. Just get the words down, you know?
i did write some filthy smut last night but idek what to do with it...
no subject
Date: 2016-10-27 08:29 pm (UTC)Oooh, smut, did it feature anyone I know?
no subject
Date: 2016-10-28 02:05 am (UTC)haha nope...i'm ont even sure what it is, lol
no subject
Date: 2016-10-29 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-10-26 12:18 am (UTC)I was giggling the whole time, but lost it completely at the waffle iron.
And of course Simon's smart enough to have pet insurance!
no subject
Date: 2016-10-26 11:29 am (UTC)